Shandiin Herrera
shares how her journey to Duke University and Washington D.C. helped
point her back to the Navajo Nation
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Shandiin Herrera is a
Lead for America Hometown Fellows working with the Oljato
Chapter of the Navajo Nation in Monument Valley. (Photo courtesy
of Shandiin Herrera)
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Climb the ladder, get an education
. Then what? The
reservation will always be here
.. But its people may not always
be. Go off and make us proud
. But, what if I want to make
you proud right here at home?
These are all things I have been told time and time again as a
scholar growing up on the Navajo Nation. And, like every other Navajo
child running through our chapter houses, I listened. I climbed
that ladder tirelessly until I found myself at the top walking across
the stage to retrieve my diploma at the Sanford School of Public
Policy at Duke University. And, yes, in my 22 years of life, the
reservation has remained, but it is changing.
Every day we are losing familiar faces, historical knowledge and
traditional ways of life. Furthermore, I believe it is safe to say
that I have found great success in making my family and friends
proud as they could share how their daughter, cousin, and former
student was attending Duke University, volunteering in Peru, working
in the United States Senate and advocating for Indigenous people
wherever she found herself. I realized very early on that my success
is not my own, but shared amongst my entire community. Similarly,
I have always felt an extra burden when faced with failure, because,
likewise, it is not my own.
Climbing the ladder of education
My curiosity to travel and to learn was born out of questioning
my surroundings and my own circumstances. As I climbed the educational
ladder, I found myself struggling with my intentions, and questioning
my position and contribution to a system that was not designed for
my success. What if I wanted to return to Dinétah? What if
I wanted my people to see me every day instead of in newspapers
and Facebook shares? What if being proud of me did not push me farther
and farther away from Dinétah, but instead, it reeled me
in close and guided me home.
I would sit in my classes daydreaming and longing for the day when
I would return home to Monument Valley. What if I could use my skill
set to improve policies that continue to hinder the progress and
health of our community? If I was this educated, well-rounded, community-oriented
person, why not try and keep me in our community? I often wondered
why we continue to send our brightest scholars away on a one-way
ticket. Why do we teach our children that their talent is only deemed
successful if manifested off the reservation? When I left for North
Carolina, I was ecstatic to learn as much as I possibly could so
that I may effectively reinvest myself back into my community. But,
to my dismay, I was pushed farther away, benefiting communities
that were not my own when I knew the dire circumstances back home
that I would much rather dedicate my knowledge and skill to. Both
ostracized and supported from afar, I walked in a world desperately
trying to find a pathway home.
Turning point
My turning point happened in the United States Senate. I tagged
along with my then-boss, Senator Udall, to a committee hearing at
which he was testifying on legislation that hits home for my people,
the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act (RECA). There were many
Navajo people who made the trip to D.C. that day to advocate and
raise awareness on the ways in which this issue continues to impact
our people and our land. I felt at home seeing shi dinee (my
people) and hand shake after hand shake I felt myself longing for
Dinétah more than ever. Every Navajo I spoke with that day
shared with me how proud they were of me for representing our Nation
in the Senate. One kind man even took a photo of me, telling me
that he was so excited to show his daughter that he met a Navajo
adzáán (woman) who works in the Senate, because, yes,
it is possible. Of course, I felt a sense of pride and responsibility,
but I also felt disconnected from my own people. What struck me
the most was when I was asked by a timid elder, shiyazhi,
when are you coming home?
When I was a little girl my sense of belonging was attributed to
the towering monuments, the hugs and whispers, Yá'át'ééh
shiyazhi'' by my relatives at the grocery store, and most of all;
the feeling that is peace and balance in Dinétah. Home was
the smell of sweet rain mixed with our red sand and the stories
told over the open fire as shimasani made fry bread. I realized
early on that home is not only a place, mine located in southeastern
Utah, but home is a feeling. As I would learn when I began my educational
journey; home is energy. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than
to invest all of my energy into my community. The question then
was not if I wanted to go home, but how do I return to my Nation?
The Journey Home
In the midst of my senior year at Duke, I came across a new organization
called Lead for America. I read that this organization sought to
sort recent college graduates in their journeys back to their communities
to work in local government. An entire organization felt what I
felt, the dire urgency to work with our communities. So, I applied.
In December of 2018, I sat on the floor of the San Diego Airport
on my way home for winter break. I received a call notifying me
that I was selected to be a part of the inaugural cohort of Lead
for America Hometown Fellows. I saw myself walking down the dirt
road to my house and this time, staying. Words cannot describe how
I felt at that moment. This is my success. Not leaving home, not
excelling in college, not the awards and recognitions, but taking
all of my small wins and paving a pathway home. After crying in
the surprisingly clean airport bathroom, I called shimá (my
mother) and rejoiced in a moment we both feared would never come.
I am now six months into my fellowship in Monument Valley, Utah.
Lead for America partnered with my local government, the Oljato
Chapter of the Navajo Nation and created a position for me as a
Policy Analyst and Project Consultant. Every day I have the opportunity
to utilize my skill set to address some of the most pressing issues
in our community. The feeling of waking up in Dinétah, and
working with my community members, is uncanny.
So, whats next?
My final question is, what is your idea of success? Redefining
success meant untangling a childhood of insecurity and embracing
my personal hopes of community development. I urge you to consider
what is going to happen if we continue to leave home with the intention
of staying away. We can end the stigma associated with returning
to the reservation, and foster a new future where Native youth across
the country leave home for college not burdened by the expectation
that success means never returning, but instead, are excited to
obtain the knowledge they can use to rebuild their community. In
this future, the pathway back is just as important as the pathway
out.
I would like to thank Lead for America for believing in me and
uplifting my aspirations. I would also like to thank the Oljato
Chapter of the Navajo Nation for their support in bringing me home.
I am not only dedicated to my community, but I am committed to ensuring
Native youth have the opportunity to return to their communities.
I hope to work to build upon the momentum Lead for America has catalyzed,
and help Native recent-college graduates on their journeys back
to their communities. We are needed.
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